


Let Me Go (i don't want to be your hero)

by Steamcraft



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Banshee Powers, Blood and Gore, F/M, Love Confessions, Temporary Character Death, Website: Heart of Camelot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steamcraft/pseuds/Steamcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Her whimpering was to be expected, but a phantom ache burned him nonetheless."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Go (i don't want to be your hero)

Her whimpering was to be expected, but a phantom ache burned him nonetheless. They were connected, after all. Peter tore his shirt and wrapped it around her chest with difficulty. He applied more pressure to Lydia's gaping wound, trying not to sweat as he propped her torso in his other arm.

He glanced quickly at the fight still going on, watching Derek and Malia beat uselessly against the Mountain Ash barrier, then out of nowhere came Stiles to break it open. The three of them rushed forward to help Scott, Kira, and Isaac tear into the witch and her chimera familiar. Arrows shot from a distance; Allison.

Peter looked back down at Lydia, catching her eyelids droop for only a second--

"Open your eyes, Lydia," Peter scolded, hand pressing tighter against the bloody rag, trying to play angry when he was _scared. Please, please, pleasepleaseplease_... His voice trembled only slightly, but her eyes snapped open wide before glaring at him with heat.

"They body... r-regenerates with rest, idiot," she said in return, albeit weakly. The wound was about six inches long, and Peter had seen her fragile rib cage; a single claw from the chimera had torn through her left side. "Let me rest for once, damn it," Lydia whispered. A sound of discomfort left her lips and that ache hurt him too.

Peter shook his head fiercely, breathing heavily through his nose as he swallowed pass a lump in his throat. "You should have let the beast slide right through you. Why did you allow it to touch you?" To his surprise, a smile lifted her bloody lips. He bit his tongue to hide the wince.

"The s-same reason why I... I never allowed you, after... you bit me." He can't help but feel hyper-aware all of the sudden where their bodies touch, and something on his face must show his confusion because Lydia gurgled out a laugh. Her head fell forward, red hair falling and sticking to her face. "You're _dead_ , and... and the chimera would have passed...through m-me, if I c-could have al-allowed it."

He stared at her a long moment, just until he noticed her green eyes begin to unfocus, and asked quietly, "What did your grandmother tell you, sweetheart?" He'd known Lydia talked with her grandmother still, listening to the whispers when she opened a music box heirloom. He'd known she'd stop waiting around for Peter to tell him secrets about banshees - secrets he hardly knew himself, not much more than Lydia did - and find a way to contact her grandmother. Why Lydia pretended Peter had a hold over her head went over his own; she was smart, there was no reason for her to have stuck around and tell her friends not to worry. _He_ was worried. Peter was scared.

_Pleaseplease, no..._

"She told me a-a passing was... to happen."

Apparently banshees couldn't scream their own death. Peter gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes closed when he felt them turn blue. "Damn it all, Lydia. For someone so brilliant, you're tragically stupid at the worse of times. Why didn't you tell us?"

Her shrug came on the _limp_ side. "I told Allison."

The least likely of the bunch to trust Peter with such vital information, of course. "That doesn't help me," he growled. His shirt rags were completely tacky and soaked through with blood by this point. "That doesn't help me save you."

Lydia looked up at him with a strange look on her face, and a moment later he noticed spattering of tears on her face. His tears; it had been over twelve years since he cried, since the death and murder of his family. The ache became stronger, and surely she can't withstand this pain he was feeling from her now?

"P-Peter," she whispered slowly. It was said gently, knowing. "If you let me go... I-I can make it." Suddenly it made sense as to what these phantom pains Peter was feeling through their connection, and knew it wasn't any sort of pain from her directly. He was reacting to Lydia's sounds and scent of death and an anguished sound ripped from his throat unbidden, because she was probably too numb at this point to feel _anything_.

He was suffering from heartache.

"You were s-supposed to be...you weren't--"

"Shut up," he snarled at her, eyes flashing blue again. "You can't tell me how I'm supposed to feel."

"I can when my life is in danger!" Lydia screamed hoarsely. It wasn't even that loud. "Let go!"

Let go? Could it even be that easy? Peter looked up to the fight for a few seconds of distraction from his inner turmoil. The chimera gave one final roar as the witch had to release it's shield to protect herself. Now she would only be half as strong as before without her familiar, he knew logically, but all he could think of was to rip the damn beast to shreds after...after. Rip it's heart apart like it ripped his own.

He could either love her while she was dead, or feel nonchalance while looking at her alive.

"You are strong, Lydia," he said, still watching Kira slice her katana at the invisible barrier, "and I've always been a selfish man. How can you expect me to let go?"

"I don't love you," Lydia responded, cold and unfeeling. He heard a blip in her sluggish and faint heartbeat, the lie in her statement, but it was in that instant that Peter made his decision.

He tucked his head low against her's, a hand cupping her cheek, speaking very quietly between them. "We would have been terrible, sweetheart."

Lydia's hand reached up and scrambled to grip his shirt tightly, which wasn't very tight at all. They didn't have long. "Peter..." she breathed, and he saw her lip tremble and smelled the wetness of her eyes. Peter sighed against her hair, swallowing pass a cry that wanted to escape his throat.

"Scream for our lost flame, banshee." He stroked the bloodied fabric with his thumb before pushing through it with his claws, tearing through her meat and muscle like butter. Lydia screamed in his ear a terrible agony that almost made Peter stop his task, but he pushed through _pushedthrough_ \-- broke two ribs to grip his hand around her heart, beating faster and slightly stronger in his palm through the adrenaline, and he yanked it straight from her body. It thudded it gently for a couple seconds in his fist, then it turned to dust, and the dust slipped through his fingers.

The disconnection left him cold and dead, and he thought, _'Oh, I forgot what this felt like. I forgot what it felt like to have no burden holding me down. I should have done this ages ago.'_

Peter let Lydia's body roll from his arms, a bloody mess emptying out on the ground. He frowned at her corpse, considering. It was all theory, of course; if Lydia did make it beyond the grave and back, he wondered how it would affect her new powers. Would she grow useful again to his needs? Would he be able to fool the full-fledged banshee into doing his bidding? Could Lydia predict which of her friends Peter would be planning to kill? Peter's frown deepened and he stood from where he was knelt, stiff. He stretched, watching the witch.

It was an unfair fight, to be honest. One against seven couldn't do any good.

He sniffed the air at a strong smell of ozone.

Eight.

Peter glanced over his shoulder to the Wailing Woman, ethereal and glowing. Her feet didn't touch the ground, and her green eyes were pale and unblinking at the battle. All blood had disappeared, her heart strong and new within her healed chest. She opened her mouth and Peter quickly covered his ears, not bothering to yell a warning to the others; they'd figure it out when their eardrums started bleeding.

It was everything sad in the world, every last emotion Lydia felt before she was able to heal herself anew. Agony, hurt, betrayal, heartache, anguish, pain, and a forgiveness a fool didn't deserve.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so fun to write, you have no idea~ <3


End file.
